


I, Too, Am an Artist

by Polaris19



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Dubious Consent, M/M, Photography, modern westros
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2020-10-28 14:29:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20780102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polaris19/pseuds/Polaris19
Summary: Theon meets a mysterious man at the nightclub.





	1. Chapter 1

“Here, try this” Ros said and handed Theon a drink that turned peachy when the lights at the night club flashed white.

“What is this?” He smiled and took the pale drink and sipped carelessly “Mmmm,” It tasted sweet and fruity, but Theon was here to get boozed up and laugh his worries out until his eyes teared, because then he will have an excuse to say that his eyes teared due to his drunken state and not because he thought about what happened in the past month. His tears won’t have history, orphaned and broke and broken. Just like himself.

“Paloma. Did you like it?” She said as she sipped her own Paloma. 

“You really need to work on your taste, Ros” and he smirked when she smacked his arm and ordered shots of his good old vodka. They downed them together. He could see the imprints of multiple circles and half-moons on the old wood of the counter flashing white, yellow, green, blue, and purple consecutively. His vision blurred when he drank his... was it his sixth? Seventh shot? Ros said something and he gave a hearty laugh that stumbled its way out of his throat and Ros giggled with him. He could feel his face heating up from laughing too much, and the muscles of his cheeks were quivering weakly. He laughed and laughed nevertheless. Theon didn’t think about how Balon kicked him out-no, disowned him as a son. He did not think about packing his bags that were now settled in Ros’s apartment in her spare bedroom that smelled of paint and dust. He certainly did not think about the look on Yara’s face when his eyes dragged on the wooden floor of their house, when he pulled the door open and shut it behind him very, very quietly.

He drowned in all the alcohol running in his veins like fire. Theon felt euphoric and the lights became more vivid with every passing moment. He could feel the skin at the back of his neck prickling, but attributed that to the beat his body was already moving to. Another song came on and Ros said something about it being her song, so he acquiesced in her wishes and they moved to the dance floor. He felt like floating on the ocean, and something about dancing to the music reified the sensation and gave it life. Somehow, on the dance floor, this new Theon took a life of his own. So he danced and swayed and smiled at Ros, and the prickling intensified. Something primal urged him to look at the darkness in a certain corner, and his green eyes connected with steely, blue ones. The man did not even blink or shy away, which what usually happened in these types of situations. He stared openly at Theon and Theon, even through the haze, faltered a little, and Ros pulled at his waist when she noticed him go rigid, the steely eyes slid from Theon’s face to the redhead and her arms surrounding him. Theon wasn’t sure if it was true from this distance, but his eyes turned completely to ice. His face growing still like a statue. He blended with the darkness, along with a bunch of other dudes. Their frames big and intimidating when they moved around him. The blue-eyed man stood in their middle with an air of importance, like he was their leader or something. 

“Theon come on!” She shouted over the blaring music and even then Theon barely heard her, maybe because of the music, or maybe because all his senses were focused on the guy across the room.

He turned his face away and focused on Ros again who was already looking in the direction of the guy and his friends “Jeez, what’s up with that guy?”

Theon frowned at the familiarity in her “wh-what do you mean?” The alcohol was still running full-power in his system.

“He’s been staring at you for like, forever. I mean, he’s cute and everything but I don’t like how he looks at you” _me neither. _

“And how does he look at me?” He said smirking down at her, pulling her to his body by the hips, blood rushing south, already forgetting about the blue eyes that remained vigilant.

Ros, playing the game as well, laced her arms around his neck and smiled “I don’t know. Like you’re... like you’re food?”

Theon cackled, because that sounded hilarious to his drunk ass, and he was already forgetting the ice in his eyes that made him shiver. 

His phone buzzed against his pocket and he took it out. It was Robb.

_ Have you thought about what we discussed before? _

“Shit” he cursed softly and Ros stopped moving “what’s wrong?”

“It’s Robb”

“Oh shit,” Ros reiterated “Ignore him. He knows you’re done with this crap” _and yet he keeps hounding me about it._

Theon sighed and went to sit at the bar, Ros following suit “Theon, he knows you’re out. He shouldn’t be talking about Stark business with you anymore” she said and ordered another Paloma. Theon’s phone buzzed again.

_ And before you say you’re not in the business anymore, you can still help. You know you can. _

Theon frowned at that. He was sick of being treated like a dog, and also because he was so fed up with Robb abusing their friendship.

_ -What the fuck are you talking about _

_ You are still a Greyjoy, Theon, even if you don’t work for your father anymore. _

_ -What is that supposed to mean _

_ We need you to talk to Euron. _

Theon was tipsy, but he’s still felt the full effect of the name, then the confusion of why would the Starks need his rogue uncle. He was a pirate, who travelled across the world and stole and pillaged, then came back claiming to be ‘empty handed’ though the black market would be swarmed with exotica, their previous owners irretraceable. But It was his father who controlled the Iron Island ports anyway. 

_ -Fuck no _

_ Theon this is serious. _

_ -And so am i _

_ You won't at least ask me why we want you to talk to him? _

_ -I dont care what you need him for if you wanna talk to him you go ahead im not talking to this psychopath _

While his thumbs were having a fist fight with his smartphone, Ros observed fondly, she noticed the guy with raven hair and icy blue eyes stalk his way to them. Then, as if in slow motion, settle right behind an unassuming Theon. Two of his companions stood beside him like pawns on chess board, though they were larger and more intimidating. The blue eyes were wide and intent and they ravaged Theon very slowly unbeknownst to the boy with a furrow between his brow and cute curl to his lips that he always did unconsciously when he was angry. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and her spine became erect, the adrenaline pumping in her veins sobered her up a little as she looked at the two hulking figures looking at their boss, waiting for further instructions.

“Theon, I think we—”

“Shit. I gotta take this” he stood up, still not facing the boy behind him and held his phone. Robb Stark was calling him.

Ros stood too, her milky arm going to his slim one and pulling on it, her voice now on the verge of panicking “Theon listen, call Robb later. We really need to go. Right now” her eyes flickered momentarily to the boy behind him, and he looked back, smiling very innocently, showing her his canines.

Theon, oblivious to what was happening around him and only giving thought to his damnable phone, slipped from her grip and was already sprinting towards the bathroom, but before he went too far, he said “I’m just gonna talk to him, tell him what’s up, and then we can leave okay?” He planted a hasty kiss on her cheek and walked away before she could protest.

“Theon wait—”

“I’ll be right back. Chill!” His voice was already getting far, and the pale boy with the blue eyes was very smoothly following Theon to the bathroom and Ros was having none of it. Sure she wouldn’t have freaked out as she was now, if it weren’t for the predatory gait and the glimmer of something ancient and dangerous roaming over Theon. “Hey. Hey! What are you doing?!”

And the boy stopped mid-stride and looked at her with malice, his eyes were measuring and cold, then he beamed so radiantly that it hurt Ros’s eyes to look at him. “Where do you think?”

“Alyn, Damon. Don’t let her out of your sight” he said, still looking at her. Ros was confused and before she could say anything, he walked away again towards Theon’s direction and two men, _oh, his cronies_, surrounded her. “Don’t question Ramsay, girl. You wouldn’t like the answer” and his eyes went over her body as if imagining running his hands on her instead.

———————

Ramsay finished off his drink and his throat still tasted like poison. His coming here with the boys was futile and boring. He wasn’t meeting with any of his father’s... associates or ‘negotiating’ terms of a deal with an opposing corporate in an unofficial capacity, they were simply having fun by doing what normal people do, which is go to nightclubs and getting trashed. His friends were laughing and making a scene, drinking their asses off and harassing sluts. Ramsay was lamenting over not spending his night on a good hunt.

And that is when his eyes fell on the slim boy standing at the bar with a busty red-head, drinking shots, wearing a grey shirt and navy jeans that left little to nothing for the imagination to the shape of his thighs. The dirty-blond boy was... lithe compared to himself. Ramsay was not exactly a giant with packing muscles, but he was fit and his shoulders broad, the boy’s slender shoulders were slouchy and could easily be swallowed by Ramsay’s hands. His arms were pale and even from here, he could see the fine blond hairs dusting them and glimmering when the lights hit them, his lashes did the same. His hands tingled with the thought of running his hands and feeling the texture of his skin, his hips pressing on his deliciously narrow hips, his gangly legs making their way around him and locking behind Ramsay, their bodies moving together as the soft blond hair sprouted out between his fingers from where his hand was clenched to his head and twisting, pulling out a moan from his pink lips.

Ramsay was already nursing a half hard-on, his heartbeat going wild. The boy was now shambling towards the dance floor with the voluptuous girl. Other dancing bodies blocked his view, but minutes later, Ramsay could see the boy’s hands slid towards the full hips, pulling them into his, her breasts smashing with his chest. If Ramsay wasn’t mistaken, the boy was dealing with a raging hard-on too. His fingers turned white against the glass he was holding and he put it back on the table carefully. His ears were now pounding with blood instead of music. His eyes latched again on the couple. The boy’s eyes wandered for a moment, and he seemed to be searching for something. His blissed-out smile disappeared as his eyes took on what they could in the dark perimeter. The boy must’ve sensed the eyes that inspected him from the darkness and he felt elated at the thought of the boy sensing him. _I’m right here_.

When the boy’s light eyes landed on him, Ramsay breathed in sharply, but didn’t look away. It was important not to. The blond stopped dancing, his eyes now lost the mirth in them and alarm rose in its stead. Maybe fear blinked behind them. Ramsay’s chest warmed.

The boy was smiling and swaying, like he has found a treasure, a nirvana in the form of pandemonium and inebriation and sick beat and a girl, pulling on her body so he won’t lose her—no, so he won’t drown himself, or maybe he was trying to drown something in his mind. He was escaping, jumping right out of his head like jumping from the diving board and into the pool and hoping someone will never pull him up. So, the pretty boy was scared when the expected happened and Ramsay pulled him up.

The enchanting moment broke when the red-headed whore pulled at him and he looked down at her arms surrounding his waist. His gaze burned because it should be his arms around his waist, pulling at him, Ramsay’s name spilling out of his lips as he moved inside him. 

Ramsay was hot and bothered, the anger that kept urging him to tear her hair to shreds must have been jealousy. It didn’t alter the intention that was forming almost subconsciously in his mind. If he was going to get him, then he has to wait. Knowing his name, occupation, family will be fairly easy for him. Hell, they could even have his social security number. If things get complicated, his father knows the regional commissioner of the local Social Security office and it won’t be hard for him to pull that favor for Roose Bolton’s son.

The girl, the red-headed whore, was smart enough to notice Ramsay gazing at her companion, she looked at the boy again and a conversation took place between them, unheard much to his dismay.

“’ey Ramsay, don’t go on banging her. I saw her first”

His eyes followed them; the boy was holding his phone, the girl murmuring something. Ramsay thought he was too distracted for his own liking. Now that he saw them, he wanted those luminous eyes focused only on him.

“For all I care, Damon you can go fuck yourself. Just don’t touch the boy” Alyn, and Skinner cheered and patted Damon on the back who smiled victoriously.

“You mean the scrawny kid?” Ramsay’s eyes swiveled momentarily towards Skinner and that was the end of the dumb smile on his face. 

The boy was still holding his phone (still distracted which irritated Ramsay greatly) but he was walking towards the bar and Ramsay decided to start the hunt.

“Alyn, Damon. Let’s go” he stood up, followed by Alyn and Damon and made a beeline towards his boy, then made it to the empty space behind him, staring at the golden sheen on his hair and skin and at his slouching shoulders, carrying weight that Ramsay wanted to take away, and replace his claim there instead. 

Of course, his boy’s attention didn’t drift from whoever was texting him on his phone. Ramsay made a mental note of taking care of that person as soon as he gets his hands on the boy’s phone, or acquire the information directly from him.

Then the whore friend called him. _Theon_, was his name. It sounded old; the last syllable marked it as a Greyjoy name. It sounded delicious. 

So little Theon must be Balon’s youngest son, the little Kraken that Roose’s inside sources tell him that Balon kicked him out of his house shy of a month ago. 

His mind was already plotting how to utilize this new information he knew only by hearing his name. His hands shook and heat spread in his chest as he imagined what he could possibly do when he finds out more about Theon. _Pretty, little Theon_. 

and then his friend looked behind him at Ramsay and company. She was terrified. She should be. He rewarded her with a toothy grin that he knew showed all his sharp teeth. Her hands were trying to sneak around his arm telling him to call “Robb” later, already trying to warn him and take him away from Ramsay. Theon, oh if he only knew how he was playing right into Ramsay's hands, kissed her on the cheek brushed her off and went in the direction of the bathroom. Ramsay observed the interaction with cold eyes then smiled faintly and went after him.

“Hey. Hey! Where do you think you're going?”

He smiled at her, but his smile was all wrong and he could see that in her eyes “Where do you think?” then the smile was off his face “Damon, Alyn. Don’t let her out of your sight” not looking behind him, he set off after Theon. 

There was a moment when Theon was out of Ramsay's sight, when he pushed the door of the men's bathroom and let it close behind him. it was only for a second, because Ramsay hastily caught the door before it shut and delved in. Theon was there, holding his phone to his ear and speaking, no slurring words to “Robb”. Ramsay’s fist tightened in what he believed was irritation. Ramsay went to one of the sinks and pretended to wash his hands in the slowest manner possible listening intently to Theon.

“Look, I don’t know where you heard that, but as far as I know, Dad is still heading the business why would Euron take over?”

Euron. Ramsay knew the name. It must be Euron Greyjoy he saw more than once with his father who does infrequent business transactions with him. Although the man is a little bit unstable, he still manages to import fuel from Essos and even from the Valyrian Peninsula itself, where the prices of fuel there are strictly high. But Euron Greyjoy uses methods inexplicable to his high-paying clientele, some would even argue that his methods are of the occult nature. Euron imports fuel, Valyrian metals, precious stones and even old artifacts that look positively snatched out of their location in a museum from a faraway continent. With No tariffs, no import quotas, he sells them to the black market with lowered prices when their rates in the markets are high, and ridiculously high prices when the product is nearly non-existent in the legal market. All of his transactions are of course fronted by his fishing manufacturing business. 

Euron Greyjoy dances around the rules that Balon abides by recalcitrantly. Hell, he breaks them, then buries them, and dances on their graves. That’s why Balon’s business has been suffering these past few years. All because of a brother he cast out.

_ But Euron taking over the Greyjoy business? _

“No Robb. Cut it out! And I told you before, leave me out of this, I’m not speaking to my dad, or to Euron, and if you know what’s best for you, you won’t let your father talk to him either,” then he paused his diatribe. To hiss quietly “My uncle is dangerous Robb. You’re not stupid enough not to know that” he paused again scoffing lightly at whatever Robb was saying. 

“I don’t need protection! I told you I’m not going. I’m out Robb. For good”

Theon’s lean body was against the ceramic sinks, the lights, dim in the bathroom, showed two males leaning on the last stall getting high on a shit-smelling weed joint. Not even the good kind. However, people here knew the son of Bolton and his friends. His family’s name carried weight here, the bartenders at Ramsay’s every whim to get in his good side, or his father’s. Or both. He thought disgustedly. So, when he strode towards the two stoners, and uttered the single word “out” without inflection whatsoever to his voice, it succeeded in implanting recognition and fear in their eyes once the black holes behind their retinae stopped dilating in the face of the new threat. Ramsay secretly relished in the discomfort and terror he found there, almost getting high himself over the power he commanded in the small vicinity. He was aware of curious eyes staring at his back. That’s when he cracked a smile against the pale slab of stone that was his face, his muscles still pulled taught. When he turned to stare back at Theon, his eyes averted quickly to the ground in front of him, he stood up, keenly now, and mumbled “Listen I gotta go,” and shoved his phone back into his pocket, probably cutting off what Robb was saying in protest, Ramsay thought, assuaged. His body was turning as if to leave the bathroom as well.

“Not you, cupcake” 

“‘M sorry?” Theon turned back, those watery eyes luminous and inquisitive when they looked at Ramsay. The green of his eyes was accentuated by the dark. A halo of gold nestled on the top of his head. He stared unabashedly. His insides warming without his consent. The only emotion he let out of his facade was the amused smile. 

“Well, you weren’t doing anything wrong, were you?”

“I... wasn’t— no?” And there it was. The fear written all over his face. The same fear in the junkies’ eyes and all of the Bolton enemies. It was the fear that incentives the dark matter inside of Ramsay that kept him awake and alive and created nightmares in the mind of his preys.

Ramsay chuckled in a manner that struck Theon as childish. “Relax. Their weed smelled like shit. That’s why I kicked them out”

Theon chuckled in return, his body relaxing very slightly against the sink, his voice still hesitant. The danger has not passed yet. “Well, it’s weed. It always smells like shit”

He leaned against the sinks beside Theon, mere inches separating their bodies and Theon didn’t know whether it was just his imagination or if he could actually feel the heat oozing from the strong body with muscles flexing beneath its skin and power songs playing on its tendons. Theon didn’t notice it but his body minusculely shrank back a little as Ramsay’s wide frame settled beside him.

Ramsay hummed approvingly and took out a cigarette pack and the lighter from his dark chinos pants. He wrapped his lips around one, and offered another to Theon. A moment of hesitation was on Theon’s part, but he took it with shaking fingers and uttered a whisper of “thanks”

Ramsay lit his cigarette and before Theon could feel around for his lighter, he offered his hand that was holding the lighter, leaning in closer to Theon and forcing him to lean in in return, his pink lips around the white smoke were just in reach of his waiting palms. Ramsay stared. 

The moment broke when Theon leaned away quickly, puffing fog nervously. Ramsay was entertained and fascinated with how the mere proximity to his person could affect him. He kept staring and Theon kept fidgeting. They both breathed out grey clouds and Theon’s nerves shot out bolts of lightning in-between. 

“I’m Ramsay,” his eyes flashed and a smile pulled so hard at his lips that his ears twitched lightly. “Bolton” Ramsay saw recognition fleeting quickly in those watery green eyes. He was gratified and extended a hand looking expectantly at Theon.

“Theon Greyjoy” a courteous smile spread on his lips. Ramsay was ready to bet that he didn’t wear that one usually. And Ramsay was correct. He reveled in all these small things that Theon made just because of him. He finally took his hand and shook it clumsily. No wonder, with all those shots he’s been taking all night.

Theon was trying to pull his hand away way too early from their handshake. The light press of his palm disappearing quickly, thought a regretful Ramsay. The white palm that promised strength, was holding solidly to his slender, dainty one. Ramsay’s hand was, of course, bigger than Theon’s, and with a quick observing glance, Ramsay was sure his fingers could circle his delicate, breakable wrist completely. Below the skin and flesh and tendons and ligaments, there resided his small, carpal bones arranged into the smallest of configurations. Fragile and utterly beautiful. 

His thumb was resting on the tendons of his index and when he pulled away, his thumb caressed the ropey sinew, which urged Theon to pull his hand even faster while he had the chance. He threw his cigarette, not even halfway through the stick and squished it with his boot.

“I’m gonna go now. My friend’s waiting for me, but thanks for the smoke”

Ramsay sighed in dismay, threw his own stick and crushed it with his foot. “That’s alright. I was heading out too anyway”

“Oh... okay” and Theon opened the door, awkwardly waiting for Ramsay to follow him. He was conscious of Ramsay behind him so he strode to where he knew Ros would be, there were two men flanking her like some sort of stormtroopers. Their figures were hulking and he remembered those shapes from when he first saw Ramsay on the dance floor. His heart froze.

“Ros,” he said as his eyes travelled to the two men, looking, upon closer inspection, as if they had jumped out of gang noir movie, excepting, of course, the polished three-piece suits and fedoras. “What’s happening?” One of them was trying to corner her and she pushed him away indignantly.

“My friends were keeping company with your friend while we were away. What a coincidence!” Ramsay materialized at his side and Theon managed not to jump.

“They weren’t keeping me company, you lying asshole, you told them to keep me here”

“What?” Theon’s brilliant eyes were back on Ramsay, now full of accusation. Ramsay’s chest inflated. “What the hell? Why would do that?”

Ramsay’s saccharine smile disappeared and he cast a measuring look on Theon. “It’s simple really. I wanted to talk to you in private, she was in the way”

“Dude this isn’t how you talk to someone!” And Ramsay just stared at the angry, hard line formed by his lips and the determined set of his jaw. He faintly remembered Euron. The resemblance was minimum, but it was there nevertheless. Theon didn’t wait for Ramsay to reply, he just went to grab his friend’s hand, pulling insistently at her and away from the guy all over her “We’re leaving, and seriously don’t follow us” but when his hand touched Ros’s, Alyn and Damon stepped forward in unison, their body language aggressive, probably to stop Theon from taking Ros away. They were stopped in mid-action by Ramsay’s stern voice. “Don’t touch him. Let them go.”

The tension was still beneath their muscles, but they relented at Ramsay’s order. Theon pulled at Ros whom cowered to his side. They paced towards the exit, Theon only sparing a confounded glance towards Ramsay’s arctic eyes that melted in the green sea of his.

“Did you get what you wanted, Ramsay?” Theon and Ros disappeared from his sight and Ramsay smiled viciously at Damon “Yes. Just gonna make a few calls first before I get him.” he pulled out his phone, and dialed Roose.

“Hello, father. I’ve got news that might interest you. It’s about Euron Greyjoy”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
This is my first time to write anything on ao3, and English isn't my first language so I apologize for any mistakes you find in this fic. Otherwise, I really do hope that you like it!


	2. Chapter 2

Theon was 16 when he got his first film camera. The Olympus OM-1 that Yara bought him for Christmas was perfect for the curious and wide-eyed teenager. He took pictures of the sea, and the windows while the white shades were ruffling, lit by the first light after dawn, the blue line of the sea always visible and on the horizon, beaming. A stack of photos sat in a small cartoon box, in the attic of the Greyjoy house by the sea. It Probably smells of salt and stale air, occupying their own small corner of the world. Their presence a constant amongst the variables in Theon’s life.

_ And I am the first variable, _ _a nebulous X in this equation_. About a month ago, In his haste, anger and frustration, Theon didn’t think of going up to the attic to pack his most precious possession. Instead, he shoved his clothes, and the wads of money he’d been hoarding over the years, in a bag. He carried it and left. Not actually knowing what he is going to do next, he walked the long way to the local diner, ordered some food, the called Ros to pick him up.

A motley of pictures: black and white. Dark and light. Colored, sharp, and oil-brushed photos. All a constant, a portal that transferred the looker to a moment in the miserable timeline of the austere house. Yara was there... smiling and looking ahead, Maron and Rodrick two silhouettes against the dodged, bright shore they were walking. There were pictures of Balon and Alannys, their faces hard and stoic.

But the brightest ones that Theon remembers every step of developing were Robb’s. Robb smiling, Robb driving (his father’s car in secret because he didn’t have his license back then) Robb grasping his hair in pure agitation with one hand, the other holding a book that Theon thought was absolutely dull.

That was back then of course, before Robb got sucked into the family business. Theon had the vague notion that Cateyln gave Ned her most likely extreme insights about Theon’s life style, and how it could affect their son grievously. As a result, Robb was preoccupied with this and that everyday, sheltered and hidden behind the dense walls of the Stark company.

Robb and Theon remained friends of course. It just faded into the background noise of their lives little by little as the years passed by.

Today, Theon was in the darkroom lab of the studio that hired him just two weeks ago. Not many people would walk to darkrooms anymore and ask for their film to be developed, but Theon found comfort in the red light, the darkness, and the sharp smell of chemicals. They created a dimension existing outside space and time. Once he seals the door shut and turns the safe light on the world beyond the door fades away and every other sound, beside his patient breathing and trickling of the aqueous liquids, disappears. There, the inquisitive child wakes again and walks in Theon’s body.

Currently, Theon was working past closing time. The cute girl at the front desk, Ellen, left him the keys to close off the studio before he hurried her outside (can’t you see the darkroom-in-use sign?). Theon, though, couldn’t help his eyes wandering to her ass as she turned to leave. That was two hours ago, so Theon jumped when the door opened again, breaking the sacred silence of the room, and partially ruining the picture that was currently floating in the developer.

A shadow entered the darkroom, a personage nondescript. A second later, two shapes morphed from its back. The red light bathed the faces of the three intimidating figures and it did not lessen the menacing look they sported. In fact, it seemed to accentuate it even more. Their focus was solely on Theon and their arms were tense at their sides. His cry of protest died in his throat and he stood up from his chair nervously.

“We’re closed for the day. I believe the sign was turned outside?” His whole body was rigid now anticipating something he doesn’t know what it is.

“Theon Greyjoy?” The one in the middle said, ignoring what he said. The other two just looked around. Their faces weren’t exactly friendly.

“Yes. What are you... What can I do for you?”

“Nice place you’ve got here,” the other one said, fingering the card Theon used for burning prints.

Theon didn’t answer. His eyes just jumped in a panicking manner from one figure to the other as they were slowly closing in on him.

“You don’t look like your father. You certainly don’t look like your uncle. Do you take after your mother, pretty boy?” There was nasty snickering from the other two. Theon was backing to the side behind another table. The Illford developer bottle he used earlier was sitting on the far corner.

“My uncle sent you,” Theon acknowledges and they don’t deny his words. “What does he want from me? I no longer work for my father. I won’t be of any use to him.” He said, taking a step back further.

“Who says he wants to use you, you little shit. Euron is taking over the ports. Your father is probably dead now. Your sister too. And now...” he took out a gun from the back of his pants. The other two brandishing their own pistols.

And before he could think, Theon leaned to the side and grabbed the unscrewed bottle of developer something heavy fluttered beside his arm and he heard the piercing cry of metal on metal before he splashed the developer in the man’s direction. The man howled in agony.

“Motherfucker!” And Theon didn’t look back at the man, he tried to skid across the table but two hands, one on his hair pulling till his eyes teared, and the other one choking him by pulling his shirt neckline backwards, held him back.

“Wait! Don’t kill him!” The man, whose eyes were burning, was leaning against the sink and washing his face repeatedly, strewing droplets of water everywhere.

Theon was hauled back against the third man’s chest, a thick forearm beneath his chin, holding him in a headlock and nearly choking him as the man was nearly a foot taller than Theon. He pulled vehemently at the arm, grunting. That resulted in the man choking him only harder.

“Our orders were to kill him. 

“I said don’t kill him! I will do it myself.” Then he rounded back on Theon looking down at him. Theon was hyperventilating.

“You think you can fuck with me?” Then his fist pounded right at the center of Theon who lost his breath and footing. His face reddened from loss of air and exertion. He held onto the forearm now like it was life boat. Not even seeing the man in front of him. “You think you can fuck my eyes and get away with it? Huh?” Another blow to the side and Theon’s vision blurred. The man holding him pulled at his torso to keep him standing.

“I’m gonna show you what faggots like you get for pulling off a stunt like that” He looked at the other two “Hold him down and pull his pants off” and the words registered immediately as Theon was being pushed to the ground unceremoniously and being held down by the second man. The other two sneered darkly.

“No” he whispered, horror written all over his face, struggling anew when hands were pulling on his zipper and button “No, please don’t. Please! I’ll— I’ll do anything, please. I’m sorry I did it I’m—”

“Shut the fuck up” 

His pants were around his knees now, his feet held down, his arms held down. He kicked with his heels and got a slap on the ass for it.

The man pulled his boxers down, leaving him naked and vulnerable. A rough hand held his left thigh with bruises and broken sound mixed with plea made its way out of his throat.

Have you ever done this before, little boy?”

Theon clenched his eyes shut when the hot tears made their way across his temple and nose.

A slurping sound erupted somewhere behind him and, immersed in terror as he was, Theon couldn’t really tell what it was that made the sound.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter. You’re gonna die anyway. Might as well put your body to good use” with that, a wet finger dived in his crack and pushed roughly at his sphincter. Theon’s cry of agony was trapped behind his clinched teeth. Red, red, _red_. Even when he clenched them shut, his eyes still saw the red hue surrounding them.

“I’m... Haaah! Just— just kill me and get it over with”

“And have no fun before you die? I don’t think so,” he pulled back his finger from Theon’s ass, each knee now on Theon’s sides and his terrible weight settled on Theon’s narrow hips, he heard the telltale sound of a zipper being pulled down, and his tears dripped to the floor, from from the bridge of his nose. He felt the hard line of the man’s cock rubbing against him and he shuddered. The man groaned.

The hands holding his legs suddenly disappeared. A quick cry of protest erupted from somewhere to the side before the man thudded beside him lifelessly, his neck bending in a sickening angle.

“What the hell!”

Then all weight was off his body, he turned his head and there was a guy holding the man with his pants down to the wall. Ramsay punched his face, cracked one of his ribs, then he kneed his exposed junk and pushed him again against the wall.

“You fucking cockroach” he hissed and Theon’s mind distantly informed him that, yes, this was the man from last night, with black hair and icy eyes. His two friends were even there too... Ros said their names were Alyn and Damon. The other body was dropped to the ground, with a knife jutting out of his throat. Theon’s stomach turned when he saw the river of blood pooling around the elephantine man.

“Who the fuck are you?!”

“Ramsay Bolton, but this is inconsequential to you, because you see,” he said gesturing to the two bodies “you’re not going to die like them, you are going to be locked in a fucking basement and I’m going to visit you, every single day for the rest of your miserable life, and I’m going to play games with you,” he smiled viciously, a smile Theon still remembers from yesterday.

“And when I’m done playing with you, I’m going to cut off your skin and rip you to pieces and send them off to Euron for betraying me”

“Please! I was just following orders—”

“Your orders were to rape Theon Greyjoy?” His tone turned sharp at the word rape.

“N—no. My orders were to kill him I swear” and he said it with such a hopeful tone that was crushed like an insect beneath a boot when Ramsay’s face turned black.

“You were going to kill him?” Ramsay’s voice was barely heard above the ringing in Theon’s ears, but he recognized the false saccharine tone and voices waging wars in his mind told him that he is surrounded by murderers and rapists, and he needs to _run_. _Now_!

“Please— please I didn’t know I—”

“What the fuck happened to his eyes?” Alyn said.

“It— it was the boy; he threw some chemical at my eyes”

“Where?” His puffy eyelids blinked slowly and when he failed to respond quickly to a raged Ramsay, he screamed at him “where is it?!”

With effort, he pointed with the same finger he shoved inside Theon to the bottle of Illford developer that was already spilled on the floor. Ramsay scanned the bottles of chemicals below and made a mental note to tell his companions take them when they leave for the Bolton mansion.

“So, you decided to punish him for doing this” Ramsay’s mouth twisted in a parody of a smile, his chin jolting to his ugly face.

“I’m so sorry I will n—”

“Did you use your fingers?”

“What?”

“Did you use your fingers to open him, you cunt?”

“I’m sorry I really—” He was interrupted when Ramsay pushed him roughly against the wall causing the back of head to knock loudly on the cement.

“Which ones?”

The man was openly wailing “Please, mercy! I don’t want to be tortured!”

“If you don’t tell me which fingers you used, I’m going to have to cut every single one of them and shove them up your ass”

“My p-pointer finger” that earned him a pause and the man’s face was red with exertion and sticky with tears and water residue. His lids were still puffy thanks to the developer that got into his eyes.

“Alyn, Damon. Put him in the trunk and make sure he’s tied. Muffle his fucking mouth” He then regarded the bottles of developers, fixers and stop baths beneath the table, imagining new ways of torturing this man, pouring the liquid in his eyes so they won’t see the light again_. A small price for what he did to his Theon_.

“Wait. See these bottles over there? Take enough of them with you. Leave them in the basement” there was a look of confusion mixed with horror on the man’s face, which appeased Ramsay for the moment.

And just like that, Alyn and Damon dragged the weeping man out, shaking and pleading for his well-being and life. 

Ramsay looked down at Theon whose eyes were wide and red rimmed and exquisite  
Theon only managed to pull his pants up, but when he stood, his stomach twisted and turned, and the painful flood of acrid vomit rose out of his mouth. He was lucky to be leaning against the sink or else he would have retched the bile in his stomach all over his shirt. Maybe on the floor too. 

“Oh, God” said Theon when his eyes fell on the bodies and his stomach turned again at the sight of the protruding knife, of the awkward bend of the neck.

“Don’t look,” came Ramsay’s gravel voice, holding his stiff shoulders and turning him to face the other side. “You’ll get sick again”

“Oh my... the—the police, they will find out what happened”

There was a microfiber towel beside the sink, and Ramsay stood beside Theon silently, running the towel under cold water then stepped closer to him, “Don’t worry, my men will take care of everything. They won’t leave any evidence lying around”

Ramsay started cleaning sweat off his face. When his other hand rested gently on the nape of his neck, applying gentle pressure on his cold skin. As if that particular touch had snapped him out of his revere, Theon flinched and stepped away.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m cleaning your face” Ramsay said matter-of-factly.

“No, not that. What are you doing here? How did you find me and—and why didn’t you turn him over?!” Theon’s voice was bordering on hysteria.

Ramsay didn’t say anything. Instead, he watched Theon’s face, studying the changes as he made his conclusions, the rising and falling of his emotions like the tide. It was all too fascinating to miss. “You’re going to torture him... you said you will cut off his skin”

“He tried to rape and kill you under your uncle’s orders. I think that more than squares it. You should be grateful.”

Theon took a step back “How do you know my uncle?” His audible exhales told Ramsay stories about his fright. He stepped closer to him.

“My dad and I, we work with him. The slimy bastard wants to take over your father’s ports, so he tried, is trying, to eliminate any competition and of course, eliminate your dad,” He looked away from Theon, then took a deep breath “my dad agreed to help him in his endeavor if he agrees to give our company a cut”

Theon froze. He never thought Ramsay would be exactly a good guy, but he couldn’t help the betrayal he felt at his last words. _He was just like them. Like my dad, like Robb, like Maron and Rodrik, and he didn’t think twice about letting— no helping Euron kill his father and sister. They were means to an end. A collateral damage. _Theon was disgusted, and a surge of panic was taking over him.

Ramsay stepped closer, looking down at him.

“Your dad, helped my crazy uncle to assassinate my dad and me and—and Yara?” He asked Ramsay, though he sounded as if he were talking to himself. He bolted towards the door, trying to reach the telephone at the front desk. Arms like iron circled his form, so he was pushed against the desk, Ramsay’s chest emitting heat to every inch of his back.

“I specifically told him not to go after you” Ramsay hissed and continued “Your sister is probably dead. We don’t want to draw them back to you so don’t do anything stupid” 

Theon pushed fervently at his arms, grunting. _Is this anger or pain? Probably both._

_ Yara and dad are dead? _ “Get off. Let me go!”

And when he did let him go, he still crowded him against the desk, hands on each side. Theon was breathing loudly, and Ramsay harshly. He looked at him, his face a breadth away from his, every physical and mental lacunae between them snuffed out like a candle and somehow, what Ramsay wanted to say was transferred right into Theon’s thoughts. He was reading Ramsay like a book and divining his secrets.

“Your men, they helped killing my father and my sister, didn’t they?” There certainly was a gaping fall out between the father and the son, but Balon was still his father. Yara was the only Greyjoy who would bother with Theon.

When Ramsay stared with solemnity at his tearful eyes, Theon continued his voice steeling with his next words, “You are a murderer. You’re no different than my uncle!”

The fleeting moment in which Theon observed the effects of his words was not enough for him to prepare for what was coming. Ramsay’s face fell and he was grabbed for the third time tonight roughly, and pushed against the wall, his breath knocked out and his head throbbed from the impact. His lids squeezed out two tears out of his already glistening orbs, they touched the thick pale hand holding his jaw in an unforgiving grip.

“If you want to call me that, by all means, do it, but remember that you are only breathing right now because of me, and you _will_ learn gratitude. Understand?”

Theon’s throat moved up and down as he swallowed nervously. Ramsay’s hard gaze tracked the movement. His eyes travelled upwards slowly, pausing on the trembling lips. When his eyes met his green ones once more, he saw fear flashing through them. But Theon refused to utter another word. His other hand slipped from his shoulder and to his breakable wrist. He tightened his hold, knowing that the small bones will grind against one another painfully, and Theon winced, his hand hand finding purchase on Ramsay’s forearm barely holding the pathetic sound he made.

“Fuck. Yes! Just stop!”

Ramsay crowded him more into the wall, their legs tangled and his knees brushed against his.

“What do you say when you’re grateful?” Ramsay whispered against his lips.

Theon’s mouth clamped shut again.

“Theon,”

He stared at him “you killed my sister” And when his tears slipped again, Ramsay’s thumb brushed them softly.

“Euron would’ve done it either way. I... our deal granted you get out of this alive. But he... I’m gonna kill him.”

Ramsay was haranguing desperately, so he didn’t notice the subtle shift in Theon before he spoke again, “why didn’t you let me die?”

A pause and Ramsay’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I’m as irrelevant as Yara or Balon to you, so why don’t you let me die?” Theon said forcefully. And although Theon was terrified of him, of death, although he was in pain for the death of his father, who certainly screwed him up and kicked him out, through self-hatred, he stared defiantly at Ramsay. _Do you have a death wish?! _He thought to himself incredulously. _And what if I do?_

_ “I think you know why”  _ and Theon knew. God, he knew from the moment their eyes met at the nightclub.

“I’m not gay”

“Does it matter?” Ramsay said hoarsely and Theon knew, again because his hard eyes were communicating it all along, that Ramsay wasn’t going to let him go, not for the dead or the living.

Their mouths were barely touching, Ramsay spoke the next words on Theon’s lips taking air in sharply, “I’m not letting you die, not when you’re mine. And you belonged to me the moment I made that deal. Euron will suffer for what he did, Theon. A lot of people will. Do you understand?”

Theon hated himself. He hated how weak he was. He hated himself for not being the man Rodrick and Maron once were. He hated disappointing his father. He hated himself, the fragile composition that made his feelings and made him stand out from the other Greyjoys. He hated himself for not being good enough for the Starks. He hated himself for fearing a long-term relationship with Ros. He hated the tears that were running down freely on Ramsay’s hands, cupping his face once again. He hated himself so much that he yielded it to the waiting arms of an obsessed Ramsay.

He ardently hated the words that he forced out of himself “Yes. I understand”

The ice of Ramsay’s eyes melted in the green sea of his, and Ramsay’s breath stuttered when he dived in to crash his lips against Theon’s bruisingly.


	3. Chapter 3

Theon whimpered at the force behind those lips. He made a small sound when they moved onto his, demandingly and achingly, like Ramsay was trying to eat him alive, like he was trying to get inside Theon and merge them together into one. This was something never experienced by Theon before The raw emotion made him shiver and loathe himself even more.

_ He killed Yara. _

_ He killed my dad. _

And yet, here you are, Theon. Because that’s all you ever going to amount to. You deserve this. You deserve to be with someone as awful as you are. That is your punishment for staying alive that long.

Theon’s slender fingers moved to the smooth ebony hair, carded through it as Ramsay nipped at his lower lip harshly and sucked it into his mouth, Ramsay grunted at the taste and Theon grunted at the pain. He accepted the it with open arms, moaning softly and Ramsay swallowed the sound by covering his whole mouth again, saliva coated their lips and the skin surrounding their mouths. Ramsay’s tongue slithered into his mouth, mapping his gums, his teeth, his own tongue possessively. Their lips made a wet sound when Theon broke the contact, taking deep breaths like he’s been running laps for the past hour.

Ramsay looked down at Theon’s reddened lips, the small cut his teeth made was already blooming with blood and his tongue poked out to lick it, which developed into another devouring kiss. Theon, allured, participated more enthusiastically this time. Biting Ramsay’s lips and moving his tongue against his. One gangly arm snaked around the waist of the powerful man. Now their hardened lengths were close. 

Theon never imagined he would get his dick up for any guy. So far, he made it in life by getting aroused by curves and the wet warmth of vaginal walls around his member. All his sexual enterprises through the years proved to him that he is straighter than an arrow. So, when his hard-on brushed against Ramsay’s thigh, he was terrified, aroused, and confounded. Ramsay’s ever perceiving eyes noticed Theon’s fear.

“It’s okay, just move along with me” and Ramsay rutted without warning against him, both of them groaned in pleasure. Theon’s head fell on Ramsay shoulder. His face couldn’t get any hotter, and Ramsay breathed in the scent of his hair.

Ramsay grinded against him again, and Theon rolled his hips until he couldn’t muffle the sounds any longer. Ramsay whispered in his ear, his breath heavy, easing him into letting the sounds out and Theon did. He moaned. He was embarrassingly loud. 

“Ramsay...”

“I’ll take you home”

And automatically he breathed out, “yes”

Ramsay bent his head into Theon’s moist neck, nipped his way to his shoulder, then focused his attention on the juncture between his neck shoulder, when he sucked a bruise Theon trapped the sound again behind closed lips, so he coaxed it out by biting hard and Theon whimpered in pleasure and pain. 

Ramsay pulled back, his eyes blazing as he focused them on the green eyes now eclipsed by the fully blown pupils.

“You’re perfect”

Once Theon heard multiple footsteps at the door, he tried to jump away from Ramsay, as if he’d forgotten who they were and where they were standing. He absolutely forgot the bodies in the darkroom. Ramsay, however, held his neck in one hand and his hip in the other tightly, not letting him go. Soon men came, they didn’t pause their movements but one of them raised his eyebrow at the compromising sight of Ramsay and Theon. Judging by the equipment they held and the latex gloves they wore, they were about to get rid of the bodies.

“Skinner and Damon tied him up and dropped him in the basement, Rams. Anything else you wanna do before we get started on the scene?” He said amiably like they were discussing the fucking news. Theon recognized the man from the nightclub.

Ramsay had to let go of Theon and looked back, “No, just make sure your boys finish it up here quickly. And for fuck’s sake Skinner, don’t bury them close to the others”

Theon’s heart stopped momentarily. _The others? _

He didn’t have much time to dwell on what he knew these men were accustomed to do for Ramsay. Ramsay pulled on his wrist, heading towards the door. Two black cars were waiting outside, one was an SUV and the other a lustrous-looking sports car. This is where Ramsay pulled him to, opened the passenger door for him and deposited him inside. A second later, he was behind the wheel, the soft purring so unusual to his ears. His car has been only growling at him for the past month. 

His hand went to touch the car keys in his pocket, wondering how the hell he will get it back.

And as if reality spoke to him and decided to grip him out of the clutches of the whirlwind of lunacy he found himself in, his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was Ros asking him when he’s coming back. 

_ I’m staying at a friend’s house. _

_ -A friend huh? Who is she? _

And he could feel her eyes looking critically at him from the screen. Theon, irritated, exhaled loudly and he wasn’t aware of Ramsay’s eyes on his phone. _That stupid phone_.

_ A friend not a one-night stand. You should go back to sleep. _

_ -Whatever, asshole. Stay safe. _

_ I will. _

“who are you texting?” Theon’s head whipped so quickly to see his eyes on the phone. They went back on the road quickly. His tone was curious, though Theon had a feeling it was anything but. “My uhh… roommate, Ros,” He said, not really feeling up to explaining the nature of their relationship to Ramsay. “I was just telling her I might not come back home tonight,” Ramsay hummed at that, clearly dissatisfied.

“You know you can’t tell anyone of what happened today right? That would compromise you and your… friend” he left a gap in his speech, telling Theon that he knew she wasn’t just a friend. Theon didn’t believe so much venom could be injected into a word. “Of course not. I’m not an idiot”

“No, you’re not” and there was a faint smile on his lips. 

They spent the rest of the ride in silence. Theon was not sure what to make of the void in the car. Ramsay’s car drove away in roads Theon didn’t even know existed. The soft humming was lulling him to sweet sleep and his eyelids lowered themselves, his head rested on the comfortable upholstery. It felt like sleeping on clouds. 

_ He was in the darkroom, again, dousing a plastic paper into the developer, waiting in wonder for the image to come into being, monochromatic and beautiful in the safety of the red light. He didn’t find his tongs, however, in the tank, so he turned around, and found Yara, lying on her stomach head turned into a sickening angle and her eyes wide, and gazing into nothing. Balon was beside her, a knife sticking out from his neck and blood pooling in a circle around him.  _

He woke up, gasping, and Ramsay was holding the passenger door for him. His eyes examined his panicking features in something close to worry.

“come on. We’re here”

The car was outside a beautiful mansion. Though Theon couldn’t make much from the darkness, the lights outside the house, accompanied by Ramsay’s hand on his wrist, were guiding him like a lighthouse in the sea. He could hear water from somewhere to his side, but his burning eyes couldn’t make any fathomable pictures for his mind. 

“The land surrounding the house belongs to the Bolton estate as well. Come on”

Ramsay pulled at him again and they were inside. He couldn’t hear anyone inside. The place was large and awfully quiet. Theon thought that this is the type of silences that are sacred and should not be broken by their quick footsteps. He felt goosebumps rising on the back of his neck. Like the house was watching his quivering body and red-rimmed eyes and disapproving. _Please, not you too._ They climbed a bifurcated staircase, then went through a corridor to reach Ramsay’s room. Ramsay’s steps were hastening as they got closer. When they reached his room, Ramsay let Theon get inside first and when they both were in the room, Ramsay was right behind him, shutting the door quietly.

Theon was shaking like a leaf. He didn’t turn back to look at how frightening the colors of his eyes deepened, or how his jaw was locked tightly. Instead, he took a step inside the belly of the beast, pretending to take in the width of the room and the comfort of the silk sheets. Everything weighed too much on him and he closed his eyes, balled his fist. His stupid tears slipped down his closed lids.

“I’m sorry.” He was ashamed when he sniffed “This was a mistake. I didn’t—I wasn’t thinking,” He turned towards the door. “I should go”

“Theon,” Ramsay moved to face him, holding his arm tightly “It’s okay if you want to cry,” he leaned in to kiss the tear tracks, so very tender that Theon’s tears slipped again when he moved to the other cheek, his tongue peaked out to drink in the salty droplets. “You can hold on to me,” he whispered against his flushed skin.

He held on to his shoulder, to his waist. Ramsay, his anchorage, lead them backwards and they fell on the bed, Ramsay on top of him, kissing Theon and moving his groin against him, his breaths quickened at the movement, mingling with Ramsay’s warm breath that wafted across his face. A breathy moan made it out of his lips, and fire ignited Ramsay’s loins. 

Ramsay licked at his flesh and bit his neck, his fingers touching his chest and counting his protruding ribs. They travelled downwards and he pulled at his t-shirt. Theon pushed himself with his forearms, allowing Ramsay to pull it above his head. When he pulled his arms down and laid back beneath Ramsay, he stared down at him for a long uncomfortable moment, his eyes tracing the red bruises along his torso, and they flashed in anger but he did not say anything as he took in the tattoo on his arm. His thumb traced the line on the inside of his arm to touch the words _What Is Dead May Never Die_ and he brushed them lightly, like they might disappear. Theon started fidgeting like a virgin, and he hated himself for it. 

“Stay still. Lie down”

His warm lips closed on his right nipple and sucked sharply. Theon breathed out and whimpered when Ramsay bit at the sensitized skin and the sound went straight to Ramsay’s cock. He made a trail of kisses to the other nipple, and bit a little too harshly at the skin. When Theon’s sound was more pained than pleasured, he kissed his nipple. 

His strong fingers travelled south, to his fly and button pulling insistently at them. Theon helped him getting them down and his hand palmed his throbbing dick in the confines of his boxers, he gave a yelp of surprise and Ramsay chuckled. “Shut up. I haven’t done this before. Not with another man anyway” 

“I’ll guide you through it” Ramsay took off his shirt and pulled his jeans as well. When he came back down, their naked chests made contact and he felt the partial, heavy weight of Ramsay on him. It was terrifying. It was intimate and it was overwhelming. Theon felt himself drowning and Ramsay saw that look. He knew it because he saw it before, then it disappeared when Theon shut his eyes at the weight of it all.

“Come back to me,” his palm rested on the back of his neck as Theon opened his eyes and he stared right into his soul. His other hand went back to his cock and he palmed it again moving, Theon’s face flushed harder and his back arched against the warmth surrounding his most private parts, the warmth cocooning his body, the strong arms gave him what has never been granted to him all his life. 

His breath stuttered when Ramsay pulled his boxers down, he helped him taking them off, then helped him take off his own.

Their skins made the first naked touch. His weight settled on his torso and Theon’s hand went down to grasp Ramsay’s leaking member and he moved his hand in sync with Ramsay’s on his dick. He pushed Theon’s groping hand gently and thrusted instead onto the flesh of his thigh. Ramsay gave a loud groan, sensations overbearing him. He then took hold of both of their cocks and moved again.

Theon’s tenor voice ringed in Ramsay’s ears, and Ramsay, rapturous and ravenous, bent down to ravish him with a deep kiss. Their bodies moving together in perfect synchronization. Ramsay, was sure their hearts acquainted themselves in this heated intimacy, and they were now beating like one, becoming one.

He bent down and buried his face in Theon’s neck, smothering it with kisses, an ersatz act of tenderness, for he clamped his teeth down on it and when he grinded the tender flesh between his canines, Theon whimpered brokenly, his red-rimmed eyes closing and his mouth softly gasping at Ramsay’s ministrations. Ramsay’s hand was stroking his member and thrusting onto him once again. He tightened his grip on his cock and Theon’s breaths became short and quick. Ramsay noticed the change with a focus not breaking from the sight of Theon’s face, sweaty and sex-flushed. Bruises were like tattoos on his delicate skin. His dirty blond hair messy and going every which way. In his eyes, Theon was phantasmal, miasmatical, a construct of flesh and mesh and skin and bones, all exuding strength and energy, and yet delicate and fragile. The moment his eyes set on him, Theon was incited him, aroused him. Theon was sucking him inside his hole of pain and dread and anger, and Ramsay was not sure he could ever, he would ever let him go. He buried his fingers in his hair and twisted his soft strands when Theon’s face scrunched in an expression of pure agony and pleasure, the broken sound he let out was like a melody to Ramsay’s ears, his semen staining Ramsay’s hand and stomach. Ramsay lost all restraint and grinded his engorged penis into Theon’s navel, the sound of flesh against flesh so filthy and primal, then he came all over Theon.

He kissed his swelled lips, caressed them one last time with his tongue, then landed on him, sharing warmth and something unidentifiable. Their quickening inhales stilling into a normal intakes of breath. Ramsay’s head on his chest, one proprietary hand circled his wrist, the other, on the sheets. His thighs barricading Theon’s legs. Tangled limbs and bodies close, a semblance of the image he constructed in his imagination.

“I’ve always wanted you like this. Ever since the day I first saw you”

Theon’s eyes were staring unblinkingly at the ceiling. “You mean yesterday?” Theon intoned, though the characteristic hint of sarcasm was there unbeknown to Ramsay how close and tight it is to Theon and how tight and close Theon was to it. 

“yesterday or ages ago... does it matter?”

“No,” Theon’s eyes were already fluttering shut, his body taken by the ocean. “No, it doesn’t”

——————

Upon waking up to the sound of chirping, Ramsay groaned irritatedly. He thought he shot all of the birds on the large tree outside, but apparently, some younglings were bold enough to migrate and take their places. 

Thick sun rays escaped through the curtains, infinitesimal particles of dirt swimming lazily in the light, like some horde of flies. The light reached Theon’s face, who was sleeping on his back, and turned him into gold. Ramsay sat on his side, naked, of course, resting his head on his fist, and examined him closely. He was so different when asleep, so beatific. Perhaps happy even, like he has finally escaped something, the awful reality composed of Euron, his family, and Ramsay killing his father and sister. A node took place between his brows and he was tempted to shake him awake, just to see reality dawning on him when he sees Ramsay leaning over him, knowing that he is not going anywhere. He decided against that in favor of watching him a bit further.

He was breathtaking like this, the shameless nudity and laxed muscles. All ruffled and golden. He strokes his cheek when he remembers Theon’s deference last night, from the moment he acceded to come with him and looking at him through the tears. He remembers how the mixture of pain and desire Theon displayed lit fire inside Ramsay. He looked better than the Theon he made up in his head. _You put my imago to shame. I bet you put your father’s imago to shame, Theon, though you do not disappoint me. You can never._

Yes, Theon can never disappoint him, even if/ when he chooses to disobey Ramsay, he’ll always be an object of Ramsay’s fascination and admiration. This has been proven yesterday, when Ramsay was taken momentarily aback upon seeing the darkroom. The hundreds of pictures taped to the walls. The hundred more that he will make. A virtuoso in the making, enamored with nature and so capturing it in one single frame, then pouring in his person through the shades and lights, through colors and angles, through his choice of focus and what he chooses to blur out. 

_ But I, too, am an artist, Theon.  _ Although Ramsay was a med student, and his heritage demanded that he assume a mindset of practicality, the darker side of his workings, the one where he deals with the Bolton enemies offers a chance for Ramsay to slip in his artistic abilities. This was the part of his job he enjoys best. The first stage was when he decides how to break the person, what to take from his body so he could give Ramsay whatever his father wanted from that person. Flay a finger or a two, make a drawing on the skin of their backs, his favorite knife dips in the skin with ease like a butter. _Oh, the things I could make out of human skin. Will I ever bring myself to wear your golden skin and pretend that I’ve finally penetrated your thick, stubborn hide?_

He really did want to be close to Theon. He had thought about it last night, but he knew that the pain at this early stage will not permit Theon to yield what Ramsay wanted from him. There were other nights for this, though, and if his work taught him anything, it was that patience always pays off. So, he will wait on Theon. Last night was just a taste of what will come next, and Theon’s inexperience made Ramsay smile as he stroked next his blond hair. The time they will spend together will make Theon understand what Ramsay is ready to give for them. He will understand that by being Ramsay’s, he will be clothed and taken care of. He will be above any other menial matter in their new life. It will be his apotheosis. The assimilation of Theon into Ramsay, of Ramsay into Theon.

What truly fascinated Ramsay about his newly acquired obsession was how far on the spectrum they were. Theon was made out of pain and anger and art, and Ramsay? Well... he was the antithesis of Theon. A med student who was not going to be a doctor because his father simply won’t let him work outside Bolton business. He also won’t let Ramsay out because to him, Ramsay was an asset, and, to put it simply, Roose Bolton didn’t like getting his hands dirty. He was only entertaining Ramsay by letting him go to med school and they both knew it, Ramsay thought sourly.

He was brushing his eyebrows when his phone vibrated on the nightstand, he found a new text from Alyn.

_ We went to The Greyjoy house as you asked. _

_ Balon is dead. The Greyjoy girl is missing. _

He stared at the screen for a long while, the screaming in his ears growing louder by the second. He finally divested himself of the sheets, cursing while putting on new clothes quickly, already calling Alyn as he left the room. The only thing he left for Theon was a note on his side of the bed. Not thinking much at the gesture, giving the messy hair one last look, he walked out the door. 

————————

When consciousness came to him, Theon realized his limbs felt like lead and his eyes were so puffy he could feel it when he opened them. The buzzing noise filled his ears and he batted his hand to the side of the bed as he groaned in annoyance.

He found it in the pocket of his jeans on the floor, and pulled it out to be shocked by an image from an unknown number. A picture of line tattooed to the inside of an arm. _What Is Dead May Never Die, _and no more truer words could’ve been spoken at this moment. He let out a breath that sounded like a laugh. In a similar fashion to the way Ramsay received the same information, he got out of bed and started getting dressed while trying to hold the phone simultaneously and call the number, hoping that this wasn’t just a picture of his sister’s dead corpse.

“Hello, little brother” and he could already hear the smile in her voice.

“Yara! You’re alive!” 

“Barely. These bastards that... they nearly got me, but I made it. Are you okay? There was no news about you so I assumed they didn’t find you yet. Where are you?”

“I... I stayed at a friend’s house. Yara where are you now?”

“Look Theon, we don’t have much time. Euron killed dad” and he heard her voice breaking but she controlled herself quickly “he won’t stop until he has both our heads. He will kill us both even if he got the company now. We’ll have to leave the country”

“What? How? If he’s hunting us down, it will be impossible to go across the borders now that he has them under his control,” he said his mind working quickly “and he’ll have every man and woman looking for us” 

“I know someone powerful in Essos, they will help us. I promise you that.”

At that moment Theon’s eyes fell on a single-folded paper, inside it was a single line written with an elegant handwriting. 

_ Feel free to eat breakfast downstairs, I will be back by dinner. Don’t leave. _

“Theon? Are you still there?”

He stared at the last words in the slip of paper, then said the next words with a shudder, already making up his mind.

“Yes. When do we leave?”

“Tonight. I will text you the address… oh and you should order a taxi. Make sure no one is following you”

“Alright”

“Be careful, Theon”

“I will”

———————————

It was about the umpteenth time Ramsay has pulled on his hair, in frustration. But some of his restraint has returned to him as he entered the house by dinner time. They were alone, so he will get to have a quiet night with Theon. No Roose, no Euron or Yara to pester them.

He searched his room, and as expected, Theon wasn’t there. He sighed tiredly any way and asked a passing maid as he made his way downstairs for Theon’s whereabouts.

“Oh, Mr. Greyjoy left early. He asked for a phone to order a taxi” 

Ramsay froze. _No he couldn’t. I specifically asked him not to._ He noted the flash of terror in the maid’s eye as she noticed the darker shift in his demeanor “When did he leave?”

Her voice shook as she answered “at n-nearly ten thirty, sir”

Ramsay was completely still, his breath audible, steady and labored. The poor maid could see he was seething below the fragile band of self-control that could snap at any moment. She only wanted to get away before it happened.

The sacred silence that Theon has long forgotten about now was shattered viciously as Ramsay grabbed a large vase and threw it at large window, his blood boiling and the echo of his roar travelled through the oppressive, dark halls of the opulent house. The maid clenched her eyes shut, and couldn’t stay put anymore... she skittered away quickly, and now, Ramsay was truly all alone.


End file.
